


The Lost Manuscript of Asser

by Scvalentine



Series: The Last Hope of the Noble House of Black [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF, Regulus Black - Fandom
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexual Regulus Black, In-Universe RPF, Inspired by Real Events, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Medieval, Middle Ages, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, RPF, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black-centric, Sirius Black Lives, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tolkien, Tolkien lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scvalentine/pseuds/Scvalentine
Summary: This chapter begins a story of historical discovery for Regulus, but is it harmless history or dark magic?
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Horace Slughorn, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: The Last Hope of the Noble House of Black [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894639
Comments: 20
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

The Halloween feast could be smelled throughout the castle during the final class of the day, nobody was paying any attention, not even the teachers. Regulus and Magdalena were sitting in their Intermediate Ancient Runes class staring at a page of convoluted runic inscriptions. Regulus’ eyes were slightly out of focus and his hand had been paused over a transcribed Þ for the last five minutes. He could smell the pies baking in the ovens several floors below and the soup he had had for lunch was evaporating into nothing. Finally, Professor Babbling sighed, coming back to herself just as the period ended. 

“Alright everybody, don’t forget to finish your assigned translation lines of the transcription I handed out last class. We will go over the Old English next class. Magdalena, Regulus, can you stay back for a moment.”

Regulus slowly packed up his bag and he and Magdalena made their way to the front of the class as soon as the other students had left. Normally they would have a Runes Reading Group meeting that evening since it was Thursday, but since it was Halloween they were hoping it would be canceled. 

“I know you and Remus are hoping our meeting will be canceled tonight, but I want you all to stick around for at least a few minutes. I have something exciting to show you,” Professor Babbling walked around her desk and brought an old wooden box onto the surface. “I’ve found something I think could be really big, and I want you all to work on it, ahh here’s Remus.”

Remus strode quickly into the room, clearly having run up the stairs from Slughorn’s potions class. He looked particularly tired but it was clear he had gotten a message from Professor Babbling and was excited. In response to his arrival, the professor lifted the lid on the old box and slid her hands in to wrap around a fragile manuscript. It appeared to have been bound with cloth at one point, but it had merely been wrapped around the pages rather properly bound. She unfolded the remaining rags and the top piece of parchment appeared, showing a mess of hastily scribbled words in a tiny hand. The first letter at the top was slightly larger than the others, a tall, spiky “M.” Looking closely, Regulus could barely make out a Latin title, “Magicae artes Danorum.”

“Magic of the Danes? What is this?!” Regulus was excited simply because it was clear the manuscript was old and hadn’t been worked with, but he could also feel that there was something significant about the crumbling parchments. 

“I found this tucked away in row H behind a stack of books about properties of psychedelic mushrooms. I think, if I have compared hands correctly, that it is written by the famous wizard, Asser, who was a Welshman in the court of Alfred the Great in the tenth century. The muggles have another work by him, but I found years ago a scrap that was taken from his work about Alfred and used in bindings for something else, muggles don’t know how to handle history, that confirms the legend that Alfred was a powerful wizard. But even more, it confirmed that it was Asser who finally helped him learn how to control magic, since Alfred was muggleborn. Now this!” Babbling waved her hands excitedly at the manuscript. “This, I think, is also by Asser. And, as the title would suggest, records some of the magic of the Danes who nearly wiped Alfred out!” Professor Babbling looked at the three of them with glowing eyes, clearly waiting for them to show equal excitement. 

“Oh wow!” Remus bolstered his enthusiasm, although Regulus could tell he was doing his best to seem excited about something he did not understand. Regulus himself had no idea what the professor was talking about, he had only ever worked with runic magic, and even then only things that were more or less easy to decipher. They were students after all. 

“This is amazing! Where do we start? Should we be transcribing or looking for specific things?” Magdalena’s voice showed actual investment in the project. Her parents had done more in the way of educating her about non-magical history than Regulus’ parents, who admittedly did not know anything beyond their family tree (which was all the magical history most English pureblood families found legitimate). Remus’ childhood was a complete mystery to Regulus, so what he knew about anything was unknown. 

“Well, I’ve transcribed and translated this first leaf, that should help you get started. But of course, you will need to check the transcription against the actual text to get a feeling for the abbreviations being used. I believe this is more of a magical history than a spell book, but you should exercise caution as I have taught you when deciphering something that might be a spell.” The three of them nodded, their focus clearly narrowing in on their task. Regulus was beginning to feel the excitement, even without any background in the possible subject. What kinds of magic did the Danes use a thousand years ago? How did they almost take down Alfred, who was rumored to be one of the most powerful muggleborns ever born (whether fact or legend was unknown)? Were they about to discover some lost magic, powerful magic, maybe even dark magic? The thought of the Halloween feast was drifting out of his mind. 

Regulus took the transcription from Professor Babbling’s hand and stared hard at it, as if that would remind him of the Old English conjugations he hadn’t practiced since third year. He saw a word appear numerous times that he thought must be a name, Ivarr, and then a word that didn’t look English, draugr.

“I know you’ll be wanting to get to the feast, but I wanted to show you this. I’m going to leave it in our carrel in the library, locked this time. Here’s a pass for each of you to give Madam Pince so that you can get in. I thought we could all spend the next couple of weeks working on this, and meet then. I don’t expect any of us to get too far, the writing is terribly difficult. But you’ll need your Old English, and an Old Norse dictionary. I believe I also see some runes in there, which you are all great at.” She handed each of them a scrap of parchment with her signature and instructions to be allowed into the carrel at any time. This was the first time they’d gotten to work on something that required security, Regulus’ excitement grew. 

Professor Babbling shooed them off to the feast after placing the manuscript gently back into its box and lifting it to tuck under her arm. She waved at them as she headed off towards the library and the three of them sped off to the feast. 

“I can’t believe she’s letting us work on this, it must be something really strange!” Remus huffed a little to keep up with Magdalena’s fast pace, he always seemed to need a deep breath. Regulus nodded excitedly. 

“We’ve never worked on anything in English either, I wonder if we’ll find any spells that aren’t Latin?” Regulus had been reading a book recently about the impact of the Romans on magical spell-making, and how most vernacular spells had been forgotten because of the expance of Roman magical power. Regulus was bitter about this, thinking that it made no sense to use spells in a language that most people didn’t know, and nobody spoke. It meant that most people couldn’t invent spells anymore, which seemed to happen much more often in the days before Latin influence. 

The three of them pushed into the great hall just after Dumbledore had sat down after his speech, and the tables were filling with food. Remus quickly waved and joined the Gryffindor table, Sirius moving over to give him space. Regulus paused for a second too long to look at his brother, who ignored him. Sirius placed his hand briefly on the small of Remus’ back as he settled onto the bench, and then let his hand drop as if he was just rearranging his own robes. Regulus pursed his lips briefly, he had always suspected there was something between those two, but he was never sure. Regulus always felt that he over analyzed people’s interactions in order to recognize romantic gestures, the understanding didn’t come naturally to him. 

Regulus and Magdalena slid into two empty spots at the Slytherin table to finally eat the pies that had been enticing the whole school all day. Above them bats were flying and crinkly leaves drifted down through the air only to disappear inches from touching the students’ heads. At the teachers’ table, Dumbledore turned his hat into a jack-o-lantern and turned his head to leer at Professor Slughorn through carved out faces. Slughorn threw his head back in a chortle and spilled mead onto Professor Babbling’s lap as she sat down in her seat. Regulus ate in silence as the Slytherins around him complained about class, or talked about the latest family to join the fight towards wizard purity with Voldemort, a name that seemed to grow louder every day. Regulus barely heard any of them, his mind digging into a vision of a powerful warrior wizard who could not be killed. ‘Ivarr,’ he thought… What a name.


	2. A Discovery to change history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Regulus and Magdalena go to Slughorn's Christmas party and meet a man who should be dead, only to make a discovery that could alter the narrative of history.

Snow sifted past the windows in the library as Regulus peered at the lost manuscript of Asser, passing his wand slowly over letters to magnify them on the parchment. He scribbled something on his notepad and cupped his chin in his hand, losing focus of the page as he thought about what he had just written. So far the manuscript was proving pretty cryptic, with short sentences relating a battle between West Saxon forces and Danish invaders, but nothing that really connected well. But Regulus had just finished transcribing a passage about a battle at Abingdon, a random little village to the west of London near where his cousins, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda lived. He’d been working through translating the Old English, but there were many pieces in Welsh, which he could not read.   
Leaning back he stretched and then picked up a Muggle Welsh dictionary that he had found in his favorite bookstore over the summer. He had already scoured the pages for the mystery words at least three times, but maybe this time? He ran his finger down the list of “s” words, pausing where the word should be. From what he could tell, it likely referred to magic, or a spell of some sort, being close to “swynion,” but the more he looked at the word in the manuscript the less it looked like swynion and the more it looked like dienaid, neither words in any declination that he recognized from the charts in the back of the dictionary. It was almost as if the word itself was morphing within the manuscript. Regulus sighed and shifted his gaze out the window. He hadn’t realized it was dark. 

After staring out the window for a moment, the darkness finally reminded him of something important… what was it? Oh yah! He pulled his watch from his robe pocket and groaned. He stood and quickly grabbed his possessions, leaving his notes and the manuscript in the library carrel as he rushed out. He barely had 20 minutes to run down to the dungeons and change into his dress robes. As he rushed in the door he bumped into a moody seventh year whose greasy hair swung before his eyes as he chastised Regulus for messing up his carefully pressed, yet threadbare, dress robe. Regulus grunted an apology and rushed to his dormitory to change. Once he had donned his deep green brocade robes he emerged in the common room to Magdalena looking annoyed. 

“We’ll be late!” She said as she rushed him out of the door and up the stairs to Slughorn’s apartments. As they neared his office suites the snow from outside drifted down from the ceiling, conveniently parting above their heads and gathering along the walls in soft drifts. Holly and glowing bulbs hung from the stone walls and a low chatter filled the air. Regulus inhaled the scent of roast ham and spiced meat and nutmeg, he realized he had missed dinner and lunch while he was working. 

Regulus and Magdalena approached the door, to be greeted by a nervous looking third year dressed as a waiter who ushered them into the party. A huge blue spruce floated a few feet above the floor in the center of the room, sprinkling fragrant needles and glittering prisms of light on the floor around it. To one side there were golden tables covered in a feast that made Regulus’ stomach growl. On the other side of the room, a revolving floor of melted gold and silver was filled with people and creatures dancing and chattering. 

“Ahhh, Regulus, Magdalena! It’s a pleasure to see you. I must say, Regulus, those robes are extraordinary! Come, I must introduce you to somebody,” Slughorn guided Regulus and Magdalena towards the table where an old man in tweed with a large pipe peered into a large silver punch bowl full of steaming mulled wine. “John, John, you simply must meet these burgeoning medievalists, they are truly following in your footsteps!”

The man in tweed looked up and peered in turn at Regulus and Magdalena from under very large eyebrows. Regulus started, he knew this man and his work, but Tolkien wasn’t a wizard! Slughorn chuckled, watching Regulus’ surprise. 

“Ahh yes, you see the conundrum. I’ve gotten into quite a lot of trouble with Dumbledore for this, but I figured, since he’s already here!” Slughorn’s laughed aloud with his hand on his waistcoat, but Regulus was still confused. 

“Pardon me, sir, but aren’t you dead?” Tolkien chuckled and puffed out some smoke. 

“You keep up with our news, do you? Well, young sir, I have very little time left, and decided several years ago that I would rather live them in peace. Inadvertently, that enabled me to come here and learn about what I’ve always suspected! Don’t worry, young sir, you won’t see anything of me after this, I’ve been sworn to secrecy on both sides.” Regulus was unsatisfied by this answer, but he had also just had an idea. 

“Can I bother you with a question?” He waited a millisecond to see Tolkien begin to nod before he continued. “Only, we’ve been working on a manuscript believed to be Asser’s, talking about the magic used by Alfred and the Danish warriors. I wonder if you could tell me something about the battle of Edington?” Slughorn laughed again and slapped Regulus on the back. 

“Straight to the point, eh John! Oho! These two won’t disappoint in their careers.” He chuckled as he bustled off to greet the Gryffindor girl who had brought James Potter as a date. Under normal circumstances Regulus would have groaned, but instead he looked back at Tolkien who was grinning. 

“I would love to see this manuscript! But yes, let us find a seat, I am old after all, and I’ll tell you two a story.” Regulus and Magdalena grabbed some minced pies and mulled wine and followed the old man to a table in a corner, barely illuminated by the lights wafting off of the tree. 

“Now,” they settled in and Tolkien puffed on his pipe and leaned forward as if he was telling an epic story. “ The year was 878, and Alfred had been hiding in swamp land at Athelney, you know the place. He had barely been made king after his brother had been killed by the Vikings, and he really hadn’t been successful in any way. It looked bleak for Alfred and the West Saxons. But one day, after hiding there for seven weeks, Alfred called together his people. It is somewhat of a mystery how he gathered them when he had previously failed, or why they were successful after no substantial changes. But they were! Alfred lead the West Saxons to victory, and finally became formidable to the Danes.”

Regulus leaned back, chewing his pie and thinking. “But the manuscript we have explains some of that I think. We haven’t finished translating the battle, but at least the part before.” He looked at Magdalena whose eyes widened and she nodded. 

“Yes! That makes sense! There is a passage we were wondering about, it was a sentence that appears to have a lacuna. But the gist of it is ‘and he raised from the marshes’ and then the next bit we got, ‘and the dead killed the living.’ It all makes sense!” She beamed at Regulus, and they both turned to Tolkien, expecting to see him reflect their excitement. But instead his face had darkened into a frown.   
“’The dead killed the living,’ that must be some sort of poetic insert. A kenning of some form. Though I’ve never heard it before. Hmm.” He crossed his arms. 

“I think what we are suggesting, is that Alfred raised an army of inferi. You know, an army of corpses. Though how he gathered them from the swampland. Unless there had been prehistoric sacrifices there!” Regulus’ mind buzzed with the connections, but Tolkien still looked confused. Or was it more that he looked unhappy? Regulus continued in the hope that his explanation would persuade Tolkien. “Bog bodies, you know, they are found all over swamp land and there’s a theory that there were magical pagan communities that sacrificed people into the bogs. This was before the agricultural magical theory made resource gathering easier. That must be where he gathered the inferi! They must have been prehistoric bog bodies!” Magdalena nodded excitedly. 

But Tolkien was now clearly glowering at them. He stood up and looked down his long nose at Regulus. “Young sir, you are clearly mistaken. Alfred was not a wizard, he was a great man. To think otherwise diminishes his legacy. What you have been saying is akin to blasphemy and will not be accepted by any legitimate medievalist. I think I have had enough of this ridiculous experiment.” He hurried off, ignoring Slughorn’s calls. He was never heard of again. 

Regulus and Magdalena stared at each other, both disappointed that a man who had been such an influence on muggle scholarship in this area would be so adamant that his view was the correct one, even with the manuscript evidence that they would have been happy to show him. But even as they felt that disappointment, they had just come to an amazing discovery. Alfred the Great was not only a wizard, but a wizard with the power to raise bodies that had been dead for a millennia to fight the Danes, no wonder they submitted to him after that. The both shoveled down the rest of their food and hurried past Slughorn, thanking him profusely and making haphazard excuses, to head back to the library. There was so much work left to do.


	3. After the party

Regulus and Magdalena reappeared at the door to the library just as Madam Pince was locking the door behind her. 

“Can we get in, just to get our manuscript, please!?” Regulus felt like he must have looked close faling to his knees from desperation, he had to check to see if their theory could work. Madam Pince, on the other hand, drew herself up and raised her nose. 

“Absolutely not. You should all be back in your dormitories packing to return home for the holidays. No exceptions!” She strode off without a backward glance, leaving the two of them sagging against the wall. Regulus wouldn’t admit it but he wasn’t only frustrated, he was also exhausted from working all day, and underneath all that was anxiety knowing what tomorrow would bring. Magdalena looked at him, shaking her head. 

“We have our transcriptions at least, we can work on checking translations when we are home, that’s something.” Regulus only shook his head. 

“I left mine in there, I wasn’t thinking. I forgot tomorrow was the start of holiday.” He slid down the wall, sinking into his misery. He knew he was overreacting, the manuscript would still be there in a couple weeks when they all returned. But he knew that the holiday didn’t just mean that he wouldn’t be finding new clues in Asser’s writing, it also meant he would be going home to his mother, who he had forgotten to write to for weeks. His last letter, full of excitement about the project he, Remus, and Magdalena were starting, had been met with a bored reply and a plea for him to please bring Sirius with him. Or, if he couldn’t do that, at least tell him that he wouldn’t be welcome home under any circumstances. Regulus had been disheartened that, once again, his excitement was being usurped by the turmoil caused by his brother, besides, there was no way he could even talk to Sirius. 

Regulus had tried to approach his brother, if anything just to apologize for his embarrassing display at the carriages. He wanted to say something about how he missed him, but also, he didn’t want to admit that he even noticed a difference when Sirius wasn’t around. After all, Sirius had never really given Regulus the time of day, he only ever saw him as that kid brother who followed him around during the summers before Regulus got to go to school, asking him about all the classes. When Regulus had finally arrived at school, only two years later, he had almost hoped he would be sorted into Gryffindor like Sirius, but when it came to it, he couldn’t bear to disappoint his mother. He’d seen how she had reacted when Sirius wrote home that he was in Gryffindor. Regulus had supposed that it was his fear of his mother’s distress that meant he wasn’t brave enough to be a Gryffindor. As he had grown up though, he had realized some pride in his Slytherin house, despite his annoyance with many of his housemates ideals. He’d also realized quickly that in Hogwarts, being in Slytherin meant that no Gryffindor would ever respect you, and vice versa, even though he thought they were really quite similar in many ways. He and Remus got along alright, at least, when Sirius or James weren’t around. 

As Regulus leaned his head back against the wall, thinking of the gloom that would cover his whole holidays, he heard raucous laughter bouncing up the stairs down the hall. He tensed, and Magdalena reached down to pull him up by his arm. But they didn’t move fast enough, Sirius and James entered the hallway, both imitating Slughorn chuckling over people at his party with Remus and Peter following behind laughing. Sirius’ eyes landed on Regulus and the laughter died, his face shifted into a stony frown. But, they were alone in the hall, there was nobody to act as a distraction. 

“The floor soft there, Reg?” Sirius twitched the corners of his lips up for a second. Regulus scrambled to his feet, stumbling slightly on his robes. His face started to burn but he straightened up and looked Sirius in the eye. 

“Mother is expecting you for Christmas,” he lied.

“Hah! You never understood her, did you Reg. She wouldn’t want to see me if I was dead,” Sirius’ face was not stone, Remus stood close behind him with his brow furrowed and his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius shrugged the gentle hand off. 

“And I’d rather see her dead.”

Silence echoed in the hallway, filling the same air that had just been ringing with laughter. Remus edged forward and turned to face Sirius. 

“You don’t mean that, Sirius. Let’s go,” he tried to steer Sirius back down the hall, but Sirius wasn’t moving. Regulus was staring at his brother, his mind completely blank, something that had never happened in all of his memory. Magdalena wrapped her hand around his and tugged him away. His body turned as his eyes remained on Sirius, who was standing firm while Remus continued to try and diffuse the moment. 

Finally, Regulus turned and followed Magdalena, gratitude and pain flooding his brain as it began to work again. Behind him, James laughed. 

“Sure, follow your little girlfriend, Reg. You never could stand up for yourself, could you!” James shouted after them, his voice full of bitterness, no doubt from hearing Sirius rant about his mother for seven years. 

Regulus tensed again, his heart burning in radiating anger. He took a deep breath, ready to turn and hope a retort would form itself in his mouth, when Magdalena let go of his hand. He felt her rush back towards the others. 

“I’m not his girlfriend! And even if I was, at least he would respect me. The whole school knows you stalked Lily Evans for years ignoring her telling you to leave her alone.” Regulus turned to see Magdalena standing inches from James, her tall frame magnified by her anger and her hand gripping her wand tightly at her side. James was staring wide eyed at her. “You have no right to talk to Regulus that way, you don’t know the first thing about relationships, unless it’s with your broom. And you!” She turned to face Sirius. 

“It was your mother who you fought with, not Regulus, you asshole. We all know James is an idiot and no help to you, but at least listen to Remus for once.” Magdalena gritted her teeth and stared hard into Sirius’ eyes, who met her gaze. After a minute, she turned her head and nodded at Remus with a smile. 

“Have a merry Christmas, Remus.” She turned and walked past Regulus, who quickly followed. As the reached the stairs to go down to the Slytherin common room, Regulus heard his brother’s voice behind him. 

“Happy Birthday, Reg.” Regulus felt his heart flip softly, although his brain was now going a million miles an hour trying to sort through what had just happened. Ahead of him, Magdalena turned and grinned at him, her eyes still glinting from the adrenaline of confrontation. 

“At least he remembered that for the first time, eh?” Magdalena was right, Sirius had made a point of forgetting Regulus’ birthday for the past five years. Last year he had even left Grimmauld Place on the morning of January 2nd, ignoring the birthday banner Kreacher had put up, to spend the rest of the holidays with James. Regulus let out a laugh. Maybe his 16th year would be exciting. He followed Magdalena into the common room and they parted to go to their dormitories. 

When Regulus pulled his trunk into the common room in the morning, he found Magdalena standing over a table with all of her transcriptions spread out, each with a blank piece of parchment next to it. She was waving her wand over them, slowly copying her hurried writing onto the blank pages. When Regulus came up she smiled and waved her wand one last time, creating two identical stacks of parchment filled with Old English, and handed one to Regulus. 

“I know you’ve already translated all of this, you work faster than I do, but at least now you can review and see if I had different transcriptions!” Regulus grinned and placed the stack carefully in his trunk on top of his clothing and presents for his mother and Kreacher (a compact record player that could shrink small enough to fit in a pocket and play music for the house elf as he worked, and a record of Led Zeppelin). He reached further into the trunk and pulled out a large package wrapped in an emerald green scarf and handed it to Magdalena. 

“Thanks for yesterday… Someday I’ll manage to talk to him right.” She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. 

“It was my pleasure to yell at James Potter, I’ve always wanted to.” They laughed and pulled their bags onto their shoulders, pushing their trunks into the pile of others that would be placed magically at the station in Hogsmeade. Regulus still felt a pit in his stomach, but at least they had the train ride to London to pour over Magdalena’s transcriptions and see if they could piece together more about Alfred’ inferi army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure there are many different dates for Regulus Black's birthday (or maybe one that's agreed upon, I don't take JKR's paratext after the last published book as canon), but I've made his birthday January 2nd, 1961 at 9:44PM. He's a Capricorn with a Cancer moon and Virgo Rising.


	4. A Quiet Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick back up on Christmas morning with what promises to be a calm holiday for Regulus. Hopefully he has a lot of uninterrupted time to work on his manuscript translation.

“Master Regulus, breakfast is served in the dining room,” Regulus woke to Kreacher pulling his nice robes out of his wardrobe, arranging them gently on the foot of the bed. “My mistress is quite sad this morning but some Christmas gifts might do her good.” Regulus grunted in agreement as he pulled his robes on. Kreacher nodded his approval and pointed at the basin of steaming water near the door, then backed out of the room. Regulus washed his face and stared back at his reflection, his cheeks flaming from the heat, and combed his hair into a neat part. Normally Christmas would be a busy day, with Grimmauld Place being a hub of relatives flurrying in and out, drinking mulled wine and gesticulating at the family tree in the drawing room. Kreacher was always kept busy retrieving family heirlooms out of pockets as people attempted to claim this or that for their side of the family. Walburga flourished on Christmas day, it was a chance for her to show off the strange riches of the “Noble house of Black.”

But this year was different. When Regulus had returned home off of the train from Hogwarts, he had been greeted by Kreacher and not his mother. She had finally come down to the kitchen and given him a somber hug. 

“I do hope you have been keeping up with the news, Regulus,” she had stared meaningfully at him but Regulus was confused. He had been absorbed with a manuscript from a thousand years ago for the last months, whatever news he had heard had been a distant buzzing in his mind. His mother clicked her teeth and sighed. 

“Your cousin Bellatrix and her husband have sent me a letter telling me of the momentum their movement has gained. Lord Voldemort has been gathering people to further his cause. Every branch of our noble family is represented in his ranks, except for ours.” Again, she had looked at her son meaningfully. Again, Regulus stared back at her. He understood what she was talking about now, it had been all over the common room. Wizarding families all over the country were debating whether Voldemort’s efforts for bringing back a day when wizardkind dominated the non-magical rather than hiding in the shadows. Regulus had heard many Slytherins talking about their family members joining him, and even some of the sixth and seventh years were set on joining. Regulus hadn’t given it much thought, not when he was deciphering history changing passages in Asser’s manuscript. He personally did not see a reason to subjugate muggles, although he also wouldn’t mind not having to hide magic from the world. After all, his discoveries about Alfred and his army of inferi would only impact muggles if they understood magic, as Tolkien had demonstrated. 

“Regulus, our family must be represented. We have hidden in the world for long enough, you can read Bellatrix’s letter if you need convincing. But we must take part in this,” Regulus had, once again, stared at her. How could she ask this of him? If she felt strongly about it, couldn’t she join up? But then he had looked at her and really seen her. She was thin, leaning against the wall as if her legs couldn’t hold her by themselves. Her cheeks were like caves in her face, and her eyes deep wells. Her right hand was wrapped around her wand but it trembled all the same, sprinkling sparks onto the floor that Kreacher kept stamping on to keep. Of course she couldn’t join, she probably hadn’t been outside since he had left for school. He had swallowed and looked into her dark eyes.  
“I’ll read the letter, Mother. I just got home, let me think about it?” She had sighed in relief as she put the thick letter on the table. Regulus had turned back to his soup, avoiding her gaze, until she smiled wistfully and wandered out of the room. 

Now Regulus had to prepare for a Christmas day alone with his mother. They had received letters the day before from the Lestranges and Malfoys saying they wouldn’t be by this year, there was a meeting at Malfoy Manor, and Regulus was welcome. Regulus had avoided the meeting by reminding his mother he wasn’t 17 for another year, and he couldn’t very well take the Knight Bus to the manor, thankfully she hadn’t remembered floo powder. 

Regulus descended the stares after assuring himself that each hair was in place and the clasps on his deep green robes lined up. When he entered the dining room his mood lifted, Kreacher had been busy. The room was cleaned and the ebony table and chairs gleamed under the chandelier that dripped with silver and blue baubles. Snow frosted evergreen garlands draped along the walls and circled the center of the table, surrounding a feast of rolls, sausages, oranges, quiche, and iced buns. An ornate silver carafe steamed with coffee and the enticing smell of it mixed with the spices and savory breakfast.

“Happy Christmas, Mother!” Regulus sat down and placed his hand gently on his mothers translucent skin before filling a mug with coffee. She smiled at him with great effort and began to load food onto the plate in front of him. When she leaned back into her chair, Regulus pulled a package out of his robes and placed it in front of her. Her hands trembled as she reached for it and began to rip the paper, finally waving her wand so that it fell away. On the table lay a deep, smooth jade box. She opened the lid and within an opal necklace shone, casting different colors from its smooth surface. Walburga reached her hand out but Regulus stopped her. 

“This one is not for wearing, Mother. This is a cursed necklace, it has a whole story, which I got Borgin to write down for you. I’ve placed a shield charm over the box so that it can’t accidentally slip out. Trust me, you don’t want to touch it, ever.” His mother’s face finally lit up and she almost looked like she once had, before Sirius had left. 

“For my collection! Thank you, my love. This is wonderful,” She kissed his cheek and placed the box in front of her so that she could admire the necklace as they ate their feast. Regulus smiled, his mother’s honestly dangerous obsession with cursed objects always meant he could find something that would please her. He turned to his coffee and devoured the delicious breakfast that Kreacher has prepared. The house elf himself was happily refreshing the heads of his ancestors that lined the wall with the refurbishment kit that Regulus had given him. Regulus did not expect a gift from his mother, she always forgot to get something in all the socializing that came with the holidays, not doubt something would turn up at Hogwarts in a few weeks, a Christmas and birthday present combined. 

After breakfast, Regulus and his mother separated with nothing else planned for the day. Regulus had been waiting for this moment so that he could sink back into reading through Magdalena’s transcriptions of the manuscript. He had worked out the portion that mentioned Ívarr finally, hoping his Welsh translations were correct. As he looked back at the passage he was mystified by what it actually meant, even though all the words made sense. 

“Alfred told me that Ívarr had departed with his army before he had become king. It was Halfdane his brother who plagued them now, and this strange new army. But other sources said otherwise. People said that Ívarr had died after killing Edmund of East Anglia, but that something strange had happened when he had cut off the man’s head. People say . . . . and he woke up.”

This point confused Regulus the most because it was clear Magdalena had had the same problem with the Welsh word. In the manuscript it appeared as both words – dienaid and swynion – but a word could only be one word, it could not be both. On their own these words didn’t even make sense in the sentence, “people say magic and he woke up” didn’t make any more sense than “people say soulless and he woke up.” What made it even more confusing was the next sentence “And Ívarr is now the king in Ireland.” How could this be if Alfred said that he had died after killing Edmund? There must be something missing in the manuscript, if only he had his own notes, perhaps Magdalena had had an eye-skip and missed a line. 

Regulus sat at the desk in his bedroom with the snow falling outside. He stared at Magdalena’s notes, trying to guess where a word might be changed, maybe there was an abbreviation that she had missed. The day dwindled as he worked over the passage again and again, each time feeling more confused than the last. What did all of this have to do with Alfred? And Alfred’s army of inferi, did this passage about Ívarr mean anything about that? Finally, Regulus leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. He glanced outside just in time to see three figures approach the door in the sparkling twilight. The next moment the doorbell rang and the voice of Regulus' cousin, Bellatrix, filled the house. He listened from the safety of his room, knowing soon he would be summoned. He had hoped to avoid this, even if Christmas alone with his mother was like any other day. Kreacher burst into his room a second later gasping. 

“Master Regulus! You must come down,” he coughed. “Mistress Bellatrix has brought an esteemed guest. You must come,” he shooed Regulus out of the room, straightening his robes on the way down the stairs. Kreacher stopped Regulus outside of the drawing room and inspected him, reclasping his robes and pointing to his hair to indicate that Regulus should smooth it out. When satisfied he opened the door and squeaked, “Master Regulus, my Lord Voldemort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize again for the Welsh, I'm just going by the super basics I can pick up. But if any readers know Welsh and would be willing to help me out, please message me!


	5. An Unexpected Afternoon

Regulus’s palms went cold and sweaty within the second it took for the door to open. In the center of the drawing room, with the family tree swirling along the walls, stood Bellatrix, her husband, and Voldemort. The latter was a new face for Regulus, but easy to recognize. He was tall and thin, with a sallow face and dark hair. Regulus had expected him to look more physically powerful, but it was also evident that Voldemort did not care much for preserving physical beauty, which probably meant that his power was much more vast than Regulus could imagine.

Regulus edged into the room, holding his head high even though he felt his knees shaking beneath his robes. He glanced around to the other faces staring intently at him, waiting for something. His mother was sitting on the velvet sofa, her hands folded in her lap to hide their fidgeting, she was staring at Voldemort. Regulus, never having met someone heralded a dark lord before, inclined his head in what could be a nod but also might serve as a bow if necessary. Looking back up, he met Voldemort’s eyes and his stomach flipped at the elongated gaze.

“Happy Christmas, sir. We hadn’t expected visitors today,” part of him hoped that he could make this visit as short as possible. But he was also getting curious, his cousin was practically panting over this emaciated man with oval pupils, his mother was awestruck and afraid. Regulus never quite knew what to feel in any situation, but the moment he got that itch of curiosity he became almost eager regardless of the circumstances. He looked at his mother and realized she would not be playing the hostess.

“Please,” he gestured at the chairs circling the room and sat down next to his mother. Regulus nodded at Kreacher, who flurried out of the room.

“Do forgive our intrusion, Regulus. Your cousin has been telling me about you, filling me in about your disappointing brother. But I must admit, I am excited to meet you.” His voice was thinner than Regulus had expected, and Voldemort shifted awkwardly in the armchair he had chosen to sit in. Regulus’ mind spun over the possible responses to Voldemort’s words. Obviously it would not do to dwell on Sirius.

“I have heard a lot about you, sir. Although I admit I do not understand why you have come here, of all the places you could spend this day,” he nodded at Bellatrix. “I’m sure my cousin would hold a feast for you.” Bellatrix nodded vigorously, but stopped the second Voldemort looked on her with a cool glance.

“A feast can happen any day, young Regulus. But I wanted to meet _you_ ,” Regulus felt very uncomfortable with the way Voldemort said this last word, as if it was slipping from his mouth to slither into his ear.

“I have heard, from your dear cousin,” more panting from Bellatrix, “that you are quite a good student at Hogwarts. In your fifth year, is that right?” He didn’t pause for the answer, “your professors must be quite fond of you, Slughorn always did like an over-achiever. How is your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Once he began to talk, Voldemort betrayed his own eagerness to get to the real question through the pleasantries.

“Oh, well, I’m not especially extraordinary. Although, I do enjoy my classes. In fact, I am working on an interesting project with my Ancient Runes professor,” Regulus couldn’t help it, his mind had been so focused on the Old English words of Asser for the past months. Voldemort waved his hand.

“Interesting, interesting. What about Defense Against the Dark Arts? What is being taught in that class?” Regulus’ eyes narrowed for a second, but thankfully Kreacher returned at that moment with a tray of mulled wine and a platter of figs and cheese. Everybody took a glass as Kreacher passed among them, but Voldemort kept his cold eyes on Regulus, waiting.

“Well, sir. Professor Morticum is fine. Although he has not kept up with the latest scholarship on lycanthropy and runic magic. He really could stand to be more inter-disciplinary,” Voldemort had stopped listening to Regulus and was stirring his wine thoughtfully.

“Is it true he is retiring soon, then?”

“Oh,” Regulus frowned, “I hadn’t heard, sorry.”

Voldemort nodded and took a sip of his wine, which seemed to stain the inside of his lips instantly. He stood, startling Kreacher who was slipping a coaster under Bellatrix’s glass and had to wave his hand in a hurry to stop the wine falling onto the carpet. Everybody followed Voldemort’s motions and stood.

“Well, Regulus. I am very interested in having you with us. I understand you turn 16 in the new year?” Regulus nodded. “Well, I will visit again when your summer vacation begins. I will visit, _personally_.” This last word again slithered its way into Regulus’ head, making the hair on his arms stand up, he wiped his sweaty hands on his robe and extended one. Voldemort looked down at the extended hand, and then back at Regulus, and laughed. He then strode towards the door, Bellatrix and Rodolphus hurried after him without a glance back at the family they had just invaded.

The front door closed. Regulus turned back to his mother, who had sunk back into the couch and was holding her glass of hot wine to her forehead. He sat down opposite her, and instantly jumped up, staring at the chair. It was the chair Voldemort had just vacated, and somehow Regulus felt colder sitting in it. He shook the feeling out of his head and sat in another chair. Kreacher gathered the still-full glasses on a tray and disappeared out of the room, grumbling. Again, Regulus looked at his mother.

“What was that?” She responded with a groan and shook her head. Regulus leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Why would Voldemort come just to ask him about one of his professors? And that question was one he could find out from more traditional sources. It was no secret who was teaching at Hogwarts. But why would Regulus know about Professor Morticum’s retirement plans? He sighed, summer, now he had another thing to look forward to beyond having to spend the summer in his mother’s sullen company without a break. Regulus stood, glanced at his mother who had not moved, and left the room. He climbed the stairs back to his bedroom, passing the fragrant pine garlands that Kreacher had wrapped around the banisters. He sat down at his desk and sighed once more. Pulling out a piece of parchment and a pen he began a letter.

_Dear Magdalena,_

_I hope you had a happy Chanukah. I’ve had something of an odd Christmas. You’ll never guess who showed up today, all I’ll say now is, I think this summer will be the end of me. But I will tell you about that when I see you in a couple of weeks, I’m sure there won’t be anything else interesting that happens over holiday._

_Anyways, I wanted to update you on my latest translation. I think Asser is talking about a type of dark magic that Ívarr did? I still can’t figure out how the Old Welsh is two words in one, my only guess is that it is an old word for a spell that shouldn’t be talked about plainly, there must be a charm on it. I think I am going to move on in my translation, I want to find out what Alfred was doing with the inferi, if we can prove that that’s what happened. But I also found an old book about the 9th century Viking invasions and the muggles definitely didn’t have anything that indicated Ívarr was magical, rather just a strong warrior. There must be something more to it, there seems to be a lot of confusion about when he died?_

_I can’t wait to get back to school, it’s a tomb here. So, of course, I spend my time reading about dead people, hah! Anyways, I hope you’re doing well, say hello to your parents for me. I’ll see you soon._

_-Regulus_

_P.S. Obviously no sign of Sirius. Mother hasn’t said anything._

Regulus finished the rest of his glass of wine, nearly choking on the unexpected orange rind that was flavoring the spicey mixture. He wrapped the letter tightly and stood to go find Kreacher to send out the letter. He descended again down the stairs, passing the pine, passing the drawing room door open to show his mother now stretched out on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He opened the door to the kitchen and sat at the table, watching Kreacher stack the glasses that had recently been filled with untouched wine.

“Well, Kreacher. What a happy Christmas. I guess by next summer I’ll be one of these Death Eaters I keep hearing about…” In his mind he finished the sentence, _at least I will if I want to live._


	6. An Eventful Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus and Magdalena make some progress, discover something strange, and are confronted with a disagreement.

Regulus and Magdalena bent their heads over the old manuscript, reading by the sputtering candles and dying grey light of an afternoon in January. Steam collected on the cold windows from the kettle of boiling water that supplied them with endless tea and hot chocolate, an invention of necessity by Regulus. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at an odd letter with a squiggle above it, an abbreviation of some sort, finally scribbling out what he had just written and replacing it with a different word. He set his quill down and leaned back, glancing outside to see the full moon rising and catching the reflection of the setting sun.

“Anything good?” He leaned forward to pour some fresh tea into his mug and hold it between his ink covered hands. Magdalena ignored him for a moment, finishing a line before looking up. 

“I think so, though it would really help if Remus could be here,” she cracked her knuckles. “Here’s what I think this little bit is saying:

‘Alfred asked me how we could win this battle. I answered that there was no way we could win now that Guthrum had joined Halfdane unless we suddenly acquired a thousand more warriors. Alfred said that that would not be a problem because he had been studying the old books in which he had learned how to conjure an army. I thought this must be a mistake, such a thing is not possible. One cannot conjure people who can react to others and fight to the death. 

‘I think we have that bit translated correctly, but here’s where it gets strange in the next bit;

‘On the day of battle we approached the field and saw the huge army of heathens in the distance. They were twice as many as we were. But Alfred had said not to worry and stood in front of our troops as the heathens approached. We could hear them laughing and calling in their crass tongue. When they were almost upon us Alfred stepped forward and raised his arms while he mumbled something I could not hear. The earth around us trembled and I heard a squelch come from around us as the swampland sunk. Our men were brave and stood their ground. From out of the mud rose terrible figures, hundreds of them and they charged the heathens. The approaching army stopped and tried to retreat but it was too late. Many of them regained their courage and fought the tormented figures as our men joined the fight. And we held the victory on the field. “

“That sounded great to me, what were the hard bits?” Regulus felt refreshed and excited again by this clear confirmation of their theory about Alfred and the inferi. 

“Well, there are a lot of missing subjects that I had to imply based off of what I think was happening. For instance, “stood their ground” doesn’t have a direct subject, it could be Alfred’s warriors or it could be the inferi? But I think it makes more sense as a statement of Alfred’s men not moving or getting scared by the inferi rising from the ground. Here, take a look,” she pointed to the specific place on the manuscript and Regulus stood up to look over the table. 

Regulus squinted at the page of dense script, searching for something that could look like a “þ” with an abbreviation mark above it within the passage Magdalena had indicated. After a moment he nodded in agreement and sat back in his seat. 

“I think you’ve made the right choice, that does make the most contextual sense at least. Maybe Remus can check over it once he’s back, he’s is the best at smoothing out sentences.” Regulus had seen Remus on the day everybody had returned from the holiday break but hadn’t seen him since. Magdalena yawned and ripped a piece of parchment to scribble a note for Remus on it, then set down her quill.

“We better get back to the common room, Madam Pince will be around to kick us out any minute. Plus, I’m exhausted.” Regulus nodded and they both packed up their bags. As the edged out of the carrel. Madam Pince was just approaching with a towering stack of books and a furrowed brow. Noticing that they were leaving she huffed and nodded approvingly before turning around to finish reshelving. 

They hurried through the dark corridors, descending the stairs towards the Slytherin common room. As they reached the staircase into the entrance hall, Regulus put his arm out to stop Magdalena and held his finger to his mouth to stop her questions. There was a clatter of footsteps just ahead of them, running towards the doors to the castle. But there were no people in sight. All of a sudden there was a grunt and an “ouch” and two feet materialized, followed quickly by legs and then the body of Sirius as he sprawled on the ground. He scrambled up and peered in front of him. Regulus’ eyes widened and both he and Magdalena edged further back into the shadow. 

“Prongs, Prongs! Hey! Get back here!” His eyes searched for something he knew should be near. 

“Come on Padfoot! Get under here! Moony’s already been out there for hours!” A hand appeared just in front of Sirius’ face and Sirius reached towards it, but grabbed at the air just below. He stepped forward, hunching as if he was stepping through a low doorway. And disappeared! The footsteps resumed but Sirius was nowhere to be seen. In a moment the great door creaked open on its own and clanged shut again. A muffled whoop sounded from just outside. 

Regulus, curious and almost reckless, rushed forward to the window next to the doors and peered out into the darkness. He saw nothing and then the moonlight passed from behind a cloud and a black dog ran down the pathway, disappearing from view. Seconds later the night darkened again with the skittering clouds and Regulus thought he made out a pair of antlers disappear after the dog. 

Magdalena had gotten to the window at the last moment, seeing the strange shape dissolve into darkness. Regulus looked at her, wide eyed. 

“What the hell was that? I’ve never seen anything like that. How did he become invisible?” He rubbed the sleeve of his robe on the window, as if clearing it would clear his confusion, and stared through it again. But nothing appeared. After a moment, Magdalena pulled Regulus away. 

“Come on, we’ve got to get back. We can talk about it in the common room. We’ll get in trouble if we stay out longer though.” Regulus glanced once more into the night and then conceded and followed Magdalena down the last flights of stairs. They reached the doors of the cavernous common room and entered, making a b-line for two wing-backed, black velvet chairs near the farthest flickering fire. 

“Regulus, get over here,” a voice called to Regulus, causing him to notice a tight circle of six or seven students. Regulus shrugged at Magdalena and handed her his bag to save his seat with and approached the group. Regulus vaguely recognized them but only knew the name of one 7th year, Severus, who hunched off to the side of the circle. 

“Um, hi. What’s going on?” He felt his voice becoming firm, covering for the skittering feeling in his chest. The 7th year who had called to him pulled him in by the arm and pulled his own sleeve up to show a strange tattoo on his left forearm. 

“They told us you’d be joining. We’re to include you in our meetings now until the summer. You need to know the news.”

“The news from what?” Regulus had a feeling he knew what this was about but wanted clear confirmation. 

“We’re Death Eaters of course, you’ve got to keep up with the news from the Dark Lord,” the boy’s voice deepened in timber as he spoke, his chest puffing up. 

“Ok,” Regulus forced his voice to match the boy’s in confidence, which ended up a little snarky, “Well who are all of you, then? Why does it matter that students are kept up with the news if you can’t actually do anything?” The boy looked angry, his thick brows furrowing. 

“Mulciber,” he pointed to himself, “Avery, Snape, Rosier,” he pointed to the others quickly, which meant Regulus missed a few, that would come back to him at some point, he thought. Mulciber continued, holding his head high, “Bellatrix, your cousin, and I were friends when she was here.” Regulus highly doubted this, since Mulciber would have been a 2nd year when Bellatrix was a 7th year, more likely she tormented him somehow. 

“Well, ok. Is there any news right now? Because I really need to finish homework for Slughorn,” he hoped that matching their disdain would allow him to dip out of the circle quickly, while not giving them any reason to suspect him of questionable loyalty. Mulciber looked even angrier but final waved him off. 

“Nothing today, but next time we call you over you had better put some more effort into a first impression.” Regulus backed out quickly, biting his tongue to keep himself from mentioning that it wouldn’t be a first impression next time. Instead he sank into the chair Magdalena had saved for him, avoiding her glare. 

When Regulus and Magdalena had reunited after break, he had told her all about his meeting with Voldemort, and Magdalena was adamant that he should have turned the dark wizard down right then and there. She and her parents strongly disagreed with Voldemort’s ambitions, and Magdalena thought that Regulus did too, if he would just take the time to think about it. But Regulus hadn’t been able to convince her that he couldn’t just refuse him, not with Voldemort in his house with his mother sitting there, already wasting away. Regulus couldn’t risk retaliation, at least not until he had had time to think about things. But Magdalena couldn’t understand, her parents had already refused the call, so she wasn’t putting anybody at any additional risk by her clear abhorrence for the Death Eaters. Of course, both Regulus and Magdalena were assuming that Voldemort’s retaliation had limits.


	7. Back on the Seventh Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus deals with a lot in a short amount of time.

Regulus stood in front of the sink, staring at his reflection. He looked slightly grey, his eyes more hollow than usual and a twitch jumping near his tear duct. He lifted a trembling hand to his face, pressing it into his eye, willing himself to calm down and breath, but his breath shuttered. He fumbled with the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face, soaking the front of his robes. He looked back into his own eyes, his mind racing back to the second, only moments ago, when he had come face to face with Voldemort once more. 

*

Regulus had been hurrying down the hallway, thinking about a recent passage in Asser’s manuscript that described how Ívarr had reappeared after his death, when he heard a slithering, cool voice in his ear. 

“Regulus, what a pleasant surprise,” Regulus stopped in his tracks and turned to face Voldemort. His face had become more waxy and gaunt in the mere months since their first meeting, his eyes now looked like swimming pools of dark blood rather than the brown they had been. Regulus cleared his throat, gathering the words that had disappeared in his mind. 

“Hello, sir. I’m sorry, I had not thought to look for you here,” he left the question he wanted to ask unsaid. But Voldemort’s lips twitched as if he had heard Regulus think it, and answered. 

“I was here for a meeting with your beloved headmaster, checking in about that Defense Against the Dark Arts position that Professor Morticum’s expedited retirement,” he glanced smoothly around before continuing. “I, felt quite at home being back and thought I would revisit some favorite haunts of my youth.”

Regulus had a hard time imagining Voldemort running from class to class, eating in the Great Hall, or remembering the password for the Slytherin common room. But, he had indeed been there, although why he had often found himself in the corridor on the 7th floor was beyond Regulus. The only place to go in the corridor was the bathroom, and the room of requirement that Regulus and Magdalena had only just discovered while trying to find books about resurrection to decipher a recent passage in the manuscript. In fact, now that he thought of it, he had just passed the hidden doorway when he heard Voldemort’s voice.

“Well, well, well. It appears we have something in common,” Voldemort now began to walk and Regulus assumed he was meant to fall in line. 

“What’s that, sir?” He struggled to match Voldemort’s strange, slinking gait as they walked down the hall to the staircase. 

“We have both found the room of requirement it seems,” Regulus blanched. He had only thought that, he had never said it. Just as it dawned on him what was happening he willed himself to stop thinking of it. He bent his mind towards the manuscript, focusing on the strange mentions of Ívarr and his soul. Voldemort chuckled. 

“Well, indeed. Indeed,” Voldemort’s words faded into the air. Regulus chanced a glance up to the dark wizard’s face, noticing a quizzical and bemused look spreading over Voldemort’s strange features. Suddenly they had reached the bottom of the stairs and Voldemort stopped, facing Regulus. 

“I think we’ll be revisiting this manuscript. Indeed,” his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Goodbye, Regulus.” Voldemort turned and continued down the stairs, clearly not to be followed. Once he had disappeared, Regulus gasped and rushed to the nearest bathroom. 

*

As Regulus stood over the sink, face dripping cold water in soft plinks. He couldn’t understand what Voldemort had meant, clearly he had been in Regulus’ mind, but why would the manuscript interest him? His mind finally starting whirring again, configuring all of the different possibilities. He grabbed a towel and began to dry himself, mind racing. Until he was interrupted once again. 

“Hey Reg,” it was Sirius, striding into the bathroom without flinching at the sight of his estranged brother. Regulus spun around, hoping his face had regained some color. 

“H-hi Sirius. Ehm, what are you doing here?” He internally cringed at that obvious question, it was a bathroom after all. 

“Well actually Reg, I’m here to take my daily piss during Transfiguration of course,” he paused a moment. “And also to ask you what the fuck you were doing talking to Voldemort just now?” His voice became quiet but hard, filled with fear of many kinds. Regulus stumbled for the millionth time that afternoon. What could he do, Sirius would be disgusted with him no matter what he said. He straightened himself up and once again willed his mind to drain. 

“He had been here meeting with Dumbledore apparently. I’m sure the headmaster wouldn’t mind you checking his schedule,” Regulus felt his forehead heating up with guilt. Sirius reacted as he knew he would, by raking his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Reg, you can’t be getting caught up in that. Are you serious?!” His voice was raising to that volume that made Regulus’ ears buzz and his mind grind to a halt. Regulus set his jaw and didn’t respond, Sirius would never understand his fear for their mother, that wasn’t a motivating factor for Sirius. Regulus gripped the towel in his hand, thinking of his mother and Kreacher wallowing in that huge house of grief and betrayal. 

“Fine. Fuck it. If you won’t listen to me, I give up. You’re just like all the other Slytherin’s, no regard for anybody else,” Sirius slammed his hand on the counter and turned, grabbing the door handle before looking back, “You’re on the wrong side, Reg. They’re killing people, innocent people.” And he was gone. 

Regulus sank against the wall and forced himself to make it into a stall before sliding to the floor, shuddering with dry sobs. He couldn’t make sense of the sadness he felt, or the fear, or the confusion. He gripped his shins, pulling his legs into himself and feeling a scream build inside him, knowing that he would never let it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and short chapter! This semester has been rough and the US is imploding, fun times.


End file.
